Mr Fix It
by Techno Dawn
Summary: Four short stories - three where Donatello bails his brothers out of a jam, and one where they save him. No specific universe.
1. Michelangelo Finally Has Too Much Fun

**I do not own TMNT.**

* * *

The sounds of laughter had petered out. There was only silence now, until Raphael's voice broke through it. "Mikey. Mikeeeey. You might as well just give up now because I'm going to fiiiiind you."

Raphael examined his options. The service tunnel that he'd chased Mikey into had ended. There were two large-diameter drainage pipes that connected to it. But, which one to choose? He was pretty sure that he had heard Mikey's last giggles coming from his right, so that's the way he went.

He'd only made it a few hundred yards when he found his first candy wrapper. "I knew it! You'd better not eat all of it!" Raphael was going to follow that up with an elaborate threat, but his voice cracked in a manner that made him sound far less serious than he actually was. Stupid puberty, taking away his dignity like that. At least he had new muscle mass, which he decided to put to good use. He slammed his fist into his open hand and continued walking.

The concrete pipe split off into two narrower ones. Raphael wasn't sure that he would fit into them, but apparently, Mikey had managed. The orange-banded thief was nowhere to be seen, and he couldn't have doubled back. There was no way that he would've been able to pass by Raphael without him knowing. "Mikey!" Raph yelled. "Don't you make me crawl through those pipes after you!"

"Ha! Like you could fit!" Mikey's teasing voice echoed. "Beefcake! Beefcaaaake!"

Raphael leaned in. "You know, you've got to come home eventually, Mikey, preferably before Master Splinter gets back. You might think that you're escaping me now, but sooner or later I'll be wearing your shell as a hat."

"That's gross, Raphie."

"Give me back my Halloween candy, and we can forget this whole thing ever happened," Raphael generously offered.

"No deal," Mikey giggled. Raph could hear him crawling deeper.

"That's it!" Raphael hopped into the pipe. He may be the family beefcake, but he was really no wider than Mikey. It was their shell size that was the limiting factor when it came to squeezing through pipes, not their muscle mass. Raphael army-crawled with impressive speed, his technique far better than Mikey's. Perhaps because Mikey was slowed by having to carry the ill-begotten bag of Halloween candy.

Raphael had almost caught up! He could see a light at the end of the pipe, indicating that they were coming to a stormwater collection chamber. Raphael prepared to lunge. He could taste victory, as sweet as candy.

Mikey dove for the pipe's opening. He put as much speed and power into it as he could, knowing that Raph was about to grab him by the ankles. Mikey made it about halfway through and then, he just stopped! "Oh no!" Mikey cried.

Raphael grabbed his lower legs. "Gotcha, ya little worm! Now, back up and fork over the candy."

Mikey wriggled around, but he couldn't budge. His arms and the upper half of his body were sticking out of the pipe, hanging about twenty feet above the bottom of the stormwater collection chamber. From the waist down, he was stuck in the pipe. He tried to push through to freedom, but it was no use.

"Get back here!" Raphael insisted, as he yanked at Mikey's ankles.

Mikey began to panic. He made the rash decision to actually request Raph's help. "Pull harder, Raph!"

At that, Raphael actually stopped tugging entirely. "What?"

"Pull harder. I think that I'm stuck," Michelangelo admitted, the embarrassment clear on his voice.

Raphael erupted into laughter. "You're stuck. Ha! Serves you right! Maybe if you laid off the candy to begin with, you wouldn't be in this mess!"

"Stop laughing at me or I'll drop it into the water," Michelangelo threatened.

"You do that and I'm leaving you here!" Raphael snapped back.

"No! Don't leave me!" Mikey begged. It was well known amongst the guys that Michelangelo had a terrible fear of loneliness. He was the type of turtle that needed an audience at all times.

"If you want me to stay, then play nice," Raphael insisted.

"Okay," Mikey sniffed.

"Oh jeez. You aren't crying. Are you?" Raphael barked.

"No!" Mikey lied. "Just, pull my legs, would you?!"

Raphael did just that, and Mikey tried his best to wriggle backward. Nothing was helping.

"I think we'd better call in the big guns," Raphael finally decided.

"Don't call Leo!" Mikey pleaded. "He'll tell on us."

Raphael grinned. "I'm not calling Leo. I'm calling Donnie."

Raphael used the prototype cell phone that Donatello had developed to give the budding genius a call. If Don had been irritated that the experiment he had been running needed to be interrupted, he didn't let on about it.

Fifteen minutes later, Donatello appeared at another entryway to the stormwater collection chamber, weighed down by a heavy bag of supplies. Mikey was so happy to see him. Raph had been torturing him by tickling his feet this whole time.

Donatello put on some sort of harness and tossed a weighted rope over the top of a pipe that was hanging from the ceiling. "Well, this is some predicament that you've gotten yourself into, Mikey," his voice echoed through the chamber.

Donatello caught the rope and connected it to some sort of doohickey. He then pulled on one end and lifted off of the ground. Once he reached the overhead pipe, Don climbed across, then lowered himself halfway back down so that he was hanging directly in front of Mikey.

The first thing that Don did was swipe the bag of candy with a firm "Give me that!" The second thing that he did was offer a buck-toothed smile and pet Mikey's bald head. "Don't worry. We'll get you out," he promised.

Donatello put the candy in the duffel that was hanging from his shoulders. He then pulled out a can of WD40 and sprayed it between the pipe and Mikey's shell. When he was satisfied, Don prompted, "Okay, Raphie. You push, I pull."

Don grabbed Mikey beneath his upper arms and planted his toes on the lip of the pipe. Donatello pulled with all his might, and Raphael pushed as hard as he could. Mikey squirmed with renewed vigor. There was still no budging him.

Eventually, Michelangelo couldn't take it anymore. "Stop! You're pulling my arms out of the sockets!"

Donatello let go, which caused him to swing away from Mikey. He dangled there, rolling his own shoulders and rubbing his chin. "Man. You are really stuck in there good. I guess it's on to plan B."

"Which is?" Mikey prompted, in a high-pitched voice.

"I brought my cutting tools," Donatello considered.

Raphael chuckled at that, visualizing Mikey permanently stuck inside a piece of pipe that he had to wear like a skirt for the rest of his life. "Oh, that has my vote! We could just roll him home."

"No! Master Splinter will figure out that I left the Lair for sure!" Mikey astutely observed.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Raphael asked sarcastically.

"He's sure to notice a piece of pipe stuck around me!" Michelangelo elaborated. Man, Raphael sure could be stupid sometimes, he thought to himself.

Raphael snapped his cheek and let his jaw hang open, not that anyone could see. "Waaahhhh?"

Don smirked. "That's not exactly what I meant. You see, that pipe that you're stuck in has an old connector at the very end. It's a slightly smaller diameter than the pipe itself, which is why you got stuck on it. All I need to do is cut the connector away and you'll be free."

"What are you waiting for? Just do it already!" Mikey urged.

"I'm trying to think of a way to do it without hurting you," Donatello elaborated.

"Hurting me?" Mikey squeaked.

"I'd be using a high-powered saw to cut close to your body while dangling from a rope," Don fretted. "If the saw jumps, it could hit you. Or, if the cut leaves a jagged piece, you could hurt yourself sliding out of there."

"I don't want a saw right next to me like that!" Mikey exclaimed.

"Yeah. I'm not too keen on the idea either," Don agreed. The rope had twisted around so that he had his back to his brothers, but he didn't bother trying to correct it. "But, I feel better about Plan C."

"What's that?" Mikey asked.

Don was excited about this one. "We use water pressure to force you out of there!"

"Water pressure?" Raph repeated doubtfully, from the other side of the pipe.

"Yes. The pipe is dripping some water, so it's obviously active. We can manipulate some valves and divert more water into it. Eventually, enough pressure will build up to pop Mikey loose. What do you say, Mikey, does that sound better?"

"Yes! Yes! Maybe I can even do a trick while I'm in the air! I think that I've got a super-duper quadruple somersault in me today!"

Donatello smiled. "I'll be hanging here to catch you, Mikey. Otherwise, you could hit the wall like a cannonball."

"Oh. Well, that doesn't sound quite so appealing," Michelangelo admitted.

Donatello told Raphael to get out of the pipe and meet him at the bottom of the collection chamber. He rinsed off the oil that he had previously applied as best he could, then sprayed an adhesive around Mikey, and the interior of the pipe. After that, he applied some sort of expanding foam.

"Aren't I even more stuck now?" Mikey wondered.

"Yes, but we need to build up water pressure behind you. We can't just have it spraying out around you, or this won't work. Now, we need to give that foam a little time to set and harden." Don hesitated, then put his hand on Mikey's shoulder. "The other thing is, Raph and I need to go tend to the valves."

"You're going to leave me alone in here?!" Mikey cried.

"Just for ten minutes!" Donatello promised. "Some of the valves haven't been touched in decades. They're rusted into place. It'll take both Raph and me to move them."

"I don't want to be alone!" Mikey shouted.

"I could call Leo," Don offered.

That shut Mikey up. Leo was sure to tattle. "I… guess I can handle ten minutes alone."

Donatello winked and pulled something else out of his bag of tricks. "I got a head start on my Christmas gifts this year. This was going to be yours, but it seems like you could use it now. It'll help keep your mind off things while Raphie and I are working." Don slipped a pair of headphones over Mikey's ears.

Don took a minute to explain how to use the homemade music player, then cued up a song for Mikey. Mikey watched Don lower himself back to the floor, then fidget with his tools as he disappeared into a tunnel. Upbeat lyrics were buzzing in Mikey's ears the whole time. He had to admit, the music did make him feel less alone.

_If there was a problem _

_Yo, I'll solve it_

Mikey was still tapping his feet to the catchy tune when he began to feel the water swirling around his ankles. They were doing it! There was something nerve-wracking about this, though, and it wasn't just the fear of loneliness. What if Mikey turned into a cannonball sooner than Don had predicted?! What if the foam plug that Don made gave out and water started shooting into his face at super high velocity and he drowned?! What if this water had flesh-eating bacteria in it?! Mikey put his hands up against the foam plugs, just to be safe. When the song ended, he hit repeat.

Blessedly, Don and Raph appeared within the ten-minute window that they had promised. Donatello must have given Raph his candy back because he was munching on it and looking amused as he took in the sight of Mikey sticking out of that pipe. Don, on the other hand, set straight to work on hoisting himself back into the air. Rather than hanging directly over Mikey like last time, he set his rope in the middle of the overhead pipe, then swung over to his brother.

Mikey caught Donatello and held on for dear life. He was vaguely aware that Don was looping a rope around him. At least, Don was trying to loop the rope around him. "Quit struggling, Mikey! I need to get this tied up, to be sure that you don't fall."

"I could fall?" Mikey shouted, hugging Don even harder.

"Not if you let me get this rope around you," Don pointed out. His relaxed demeanor calmed Mikey just enough that Don was able to tie his brother to him. Don then allowed Mikey to hold him close again. "Can you feel how high the water is?" Donatello asked.

"I think the pipe is full," Mikey announced. "The water is so cold."

Don rubbed Mikey's back. "Okay, well, it shouldn't be long now. When we get home, you can take a hot bath."

"Do you think that Leo has missed us yet?" Raphael asked from below.

Don looked down at him. "Probably not. He was in his room reading when I left. I put some music on in Mikey's room, and I left the mixing machine running in my lab. Hopefully, he won't get suspicious."

"I think that I'm feeling more pressure," Michelangelo said.

Don checked the now-hardened foam. It was beginning to bulge out. "That's good Mikey. We're almost there." Don pushed the foam in as much as he could. Michelangelo held him tighter.

Mikey began to feel as if he were vibrating, as the water fought to escape the pipe. He began to wonder if the family genius had any idea what he was doing. "Dooooonnnn," he cried.

Suddenly, Don and Mikey were swinging across the room, holding onto each other for dear life. Before Mikey's mind even registered that he was free, Don began releasing the line to lower them down. The two swung until they were over a dry landing area, then Donatello released the harness.

A soaking wet Mikey immediately began kissing the ground. Donatello set to work reclaiming his rope and packing his harness. When he was done, Raphael handed Don a piece of candy. "I think you earned this, bro."

Donatello gratefully took it. It was a chocolate-covered marshmallow, his favorite!

Mikey had been so terrified that he hadn't even realized that the same song was still playing on repeat. From his spot on the ground, he looked at Donnie, standing there, cool as ice, like nothing could've possibly gone wrong. That song would forever remind Mikey of Donatello.

_If you've got a problem _

_Don will solve it_


	2. Bodyguard

"You've got about ten seconds until all hell breaks loose, Brainiac!" Raphael hollered. He was fighting with all of his might to hold a legion of enemy soldiers at bay, while Donatello attended to more delicate matters.

"I'm going as fast as I can! You can't rush these things!" Donatello shouted, his eyes never leaving the tangle of wires that he was in the middle of reworking.

Raphael's breath was coming faster now. It felt like he was single-handedly restraining a herd of stampeding wildebeest, all of them heading towards the repurposed water tower that Donatello was stationed at. "Can't hold them back alone. Five seconds!" Raphael warned.

"Almost got it!" Donatello ignored the knife that implanted itself next to his hand as he cut the final wires. He was rewarded with a loud hiss that indicated that the mutagen bomb had been diffused. The liquid inside turned black, now a harmless, inert muck. "There! And with a few seconds to spare!" Don celebrated.

He grabbed his bo and spun around, ready to assist Raphael with clearing a path through the attacking horde so that they could regroup with Leonardo and Michelangelo. But, where was Raphael?! He had been there only seconds ago, covering Don's back. "Raph!" Donnie hollered, striking out with his staff as the first of the attackers reached him. "Raph!"

Donatello battled his way towards where Raphael had been standing. He could see something vaguely turtle-shaped on the ground about ten feet away, not moving. "No! Raphael!"

Donatello may not have been the most skilled ninja of his family, but say what you will about the bo-staff, it is capable of taking out a lot of people at once. And, Don could've written a book about the effective use of a bo staff. It was rare that Donatello's mind aimed 100% of its staggering power on any single task at a time, but when he saw Raph's body helplessly laying there, being swarmed by the enemy, every neuron in his brain focused on winning the fight to get to him.

Donatello became some sort of machine. Even he could not recall what moves he made. But, within a matter of minutes, two dozen men were laying in a pile around him, clutching broken limbs. At the center of that pile was Raphael. The mob continued to swirl around him, but Donatello saw his chance. He struck one of the rushing soldiers square in the gut, batting him back into two other men. The opening was only a second long, but it was just enough of a window for Donatello to grab Raphael.

He had no time to check his brother for injuries. He slung Raph across his soldiers. In the same motion, he tucked his staff away behind his back. He turned 180 degrees and began to run just as fast as he could, projectiles whizzing past his face and bouncing off of his shell.

The turtles' emergency meet-up spot was on a rooftop a few blocks over. The problem was, Leonardo and Michelangelo were fighting their own battle on the ground. Donatello had to make a split second decision - fight back through the small army of enemy combatants to reach the ground and his brothers, or head to the rally point. He decided upon the second option, only because he would've had to put Raphael down if he wanted to fight his way to the ground.

The protocol was to call Leonardo, but Don's hands weren't free. They weren't going to be anytime soon, given that they were both occupied holding Raphael. Fortunately, Donatello had equipped the phones with voice activation technology. "Call Leo!" Donatello hollered. Right after he did so, he leaped over the edge of the building.

Donatello had never attempted to jump across a rooftop while holding a brother before. He was confident that he had put enough power into his leap to make it to the next roof, but it wasn't until he was in midair that he realized how much the landing was likely to hurt. 'Oh well,' Don thought, as the phone rang for the first time. He shifted Raphael a little on his shoulders, ensuring that he wouldn't drop him.

Don landed low, bent forward at the waist with his feet stretched out in front of him. He hoped that this position would lessen the impact to his knees and ankles. His bare heels scraped across the rooftop gravel, but he managed to ignore the stinging sensation. He arched his shoulders, using Raphael's momentum to push himself forward instead of straight down onto his rump. It worked, and he was able to recover from the jump without missing a step. When the phone rang the second time, Donatello was halfway across the roof.

He hazarded a glance behind him. If Don had to guess, he'd say about 50 men were standing on the roof that he'd just leaped from. It was hard to say how many would pursue him. About five already had, and more were lining up to make the jump. At least one must have already tried and failed, given the number of them that were looking down to the alley below in horror. "Raph!" Donatello yelled, bucking his shoulders a little in the hopes of rousing his brother. "Raph!"

The phone rang a third time, but Donnie didn't notice, focusing instead on the next leap. He landed it with no difficulty, but it was pretty obvious that he was about to have an issue. The next building over was substantially taller, so he couldn't aim for the roof. To his right, there was a very wide roadway. The distance to the buildings on the other side was too far. He looked quickly to his left. It was worth a shot. Don angled in that direction. About two dozen men were giving chase. Donatello made his final leap. It was still a dead end. Fate had smiled on him though.

Donatello kicked open the door to a rooftop maintenance shed. Rooftop gardens were all the rage in New York City these days, thank goodness. The phone rang a final time. "This is Leonardo. Leave a message."

"Leo! It's Don. It's okay. We're okay. But, Raph and I are pinned down on the rooftop of the Sondheim Building. Once I finish taking care of business, we're heading for the rally point. End call!"

Donatello gently settled Raphael down onto the floor. Raph groaned and moved a little, which was a good sign. Donnie didn't have time to celebrate, though. His pursuers had seen him go into the shed. He had known that they would. It was not so much a hiding place, as a spot where he could better defend Raphael.

Even if Raph emerged from his stupor, Don knew that he wouldn't be able to defend himself. Given the massive welt on his left temple, combined with his unconscious state, Donatello strongly suspected that Raphael had suffered a concussion. It was also pretty clear that he'd broken his right arm.

"Everything's going to be okay," Don promised. He pet Raphael on the shoulder, then marched resolutely to the door. He cracked one enemy across the ribs with his bo and threw a punch at another. He dodged the swipe of a sword, then dropped low, using his bo to sweep a third villain's feet out from under him.

"D-Donnie?" Raphael called from the shed. He didn't remember how he had arrived at this place. His only comfort was that he knew at least one of his brothers was watching over him. He could barely see Donatello. His vision was so hazy, and Don was moving so fast. Occasionally, Don would dart past the doorway, or an olive-green arm or leg would enter his field of vision. Raphael began clawing his way towards the door. He hissed as his arm hit the ground. When had he broken his arm?

There was a flurry of activity outside of the shed. Raphael saw, clear as day, Donatello's upside-down head pass across the top of the open doorway, apparently in the midst of a backflip. Don's neck swiveled to glare at Raphael. "Stay down!" Don scolded, before disappearing from sight again.

Never one to head the directions of others, Raphael kept crawling. He was Don's bodyguard, not the other way around! Raph reached the doorway, but what he saw on the rooftop didn't make any sense.

Donatello was fighting five men at once, busting moves that not even Leonardo or Master Splinter himself were capable of. Raphael watched as Donatello grabbed an oncoming enemy by the wrist. He twisted a knife out of the man's arm, then kicked it at another as though it was a soccer ball. It buried itself up to the handle in the man's thigh. Don then spun and swung the soldier he had by the arm into a third enemy combatant.

As the two men went down, Donatello, still spinning, tumbled into a backward somersault. He bent a shoulder and swung his hips around, causing his body to spin at a high velocity on the cusp of his shell. His hands were moving as fast as lightning, sending shuriken flying in every direction. Two enemies managed to advance through the onslaught. When they were close enough, Donatello kicked his legs out, each foot catching one of the combatants beneath their jaws.

The two men collapsed, but Donatello wasn't done yet. He executed the craziest move that Raphael had ever seen. The force of kicking the two men had slowed Don's upside-down spinning just enough that Raphael could make out his features a little better. Donnie squinted and threw two final shurikens, ensuring that any nearby fighters stood clear. The second the shurikens had left his fingertips, he gave a quick jerk of his neck. His arms and shoulders weren't involved at all, and yet somehow, someway, Don's body popped several feet into the air. He flipped over and landed on his feet.

Raphael blinked several times in sheer disbelief. How had Donatello done that? It shouldn't be possible to use only one's neck muscles to spring up that far, nevermind while spinning and throwing things! What would one even call that move? Raphael would later settle on neck-spring, but at the moment, he could only continue to watch as beast-mode Donatello systematically demolished these people.

Raphael was nice enough that he never said it out loud, but Donatello was the brother that he considered to be the easiest to defeat in battle. However, this version of Donnie was one that he wouldn't ever want to face - not in a million years. Raphael almost felt sorry for the enemy.

Having landed easily on his feet, Donatello immediately bounced into a spin kick. He knocked the wind out of a soldier that had been approaching him, then pole-vaulted over his collapsed form. He cracked the jaw of his next wannabe opponent with his bo staff.

Several more enemy soldiers reached the rooftop. Donatello backflipped over to them. On the final flip, Don balled his fists and smashed them down. Raphael swore that he felt the roof he was laying on shake. Don lifted off of the rooftop like a rocket, still upside down. He decided on a target and twisted his body accordingly. He landed on the shoulders of his selected enemy, causing the man to stumble backwards. Don landed on his shell with the man on top of him, but he had somehow managed to get his feet behind the enemy's back. Don kicked the man ten feet into the air, bounced up onto his own feet and then caught the man again. He threw him across the roof as though he were some sort of toy that Donatello was done playing with. The defeated soldier/projectile took out a crowd of people that had been intending to jump the roof.

Without even taking a breath, Don grabbed his bo staff from its holster. He vaulted over to the next hot-spot in an instant. Once there, he grabbed a fallen soldier by the ankle, swung him around, and flung him 35 feet away, onto the fire escape of a neighboring building. He then tossed a knife that he had found somewhere, pinning the man to the brick wall by a shirt sleeve.

Raph crawled further out of the shed, sensing that the battle was over now. He saw groaning bodies piled up all around him. There was no one left to threaten him. Don had taken them all out. A pair of green feet appeared in Raph's line of sight, one toe tapping impatiently. "I told you not to move," Don scolded. "Now let's take a look at your injuries."

Donatello knelt down next to his brother, breathing heavily, but otherwise unflustered. There wasn't a scratch on him.

"How'd you do that?" Raphael wondered.

"Do what?" Donatello asked, shining his phone's flashlight into Raphael's eyes.

"Take all those guys out so fast? That spinning neck-spring thing?" Raphael replied.

"Neck-spring? What's that?" Donnie wondered.

"I don't know. I didn't even think it was possible," Raphael said. "But you did it."

"Did what?" Donatello asked, distracted as he focused on studying Raphael's pupils.

"You did some sort of backward somersault, but you were spinning too. Then, you used your neck to spring up and land on your feet," Raphael reiterated.

"I did not," Don answered simply. He put the phone away and began feeling around Raphael's head and neck. "That's physically impossible."

"I would've agreed five minutes ago," Raphael replied.

"I probably used my hands to spring up, not my neck, and the spinning was probably just your vision swimming due to being knocked out," Don theorized.

"Your hands were busy tossing throwing stars a mile a minute," Raphael explained. "And if my vision was so messed up, it would've looked like the whole roof was spinning. Not just you."

"You're concussed, Raphael," Donnie diagnosed.

"You honestly mean to tell me that you don't remember doing that?" Raphael asked, rubbing his sore head. From the way he was feeling, he had no doubt that he really was concussed.

"I assure you, it never happened," Donatello insisted. "That sounds like a good way to break your neck."

"What do you think you did, then?" Raphael asked.

"I don't know. My normal fighting," Don answered quietly. He gently took Raphael's arm and ran his fingers up and down it. "I don't exactly remember every move, I was pretty distracted by my worry for you. I just wanted to finish the battle as quickly as possible, so that I could get back here before you did something reckless, like try to help me out."

Raphael smiled despite the pain in his head and arm. Donatello smiled too. It was funny to see Donnie go from one extreme to the other - from the ultimate soldier to the doting family medic.

There was a groan from one of the fallen soldiers, and both turtles looked in the direction that the noise had come from with concern.

"You got any throwing stars left?" Raphael asked.

Don checked. "Nope. Fresh out. Now let's get your arm set and get you out of here before these guys wake up."

Raphael braced himself, and looked at the dozens of men strewn across the rooftop. He pointed one out at random. "Do you remember how you took out that guy?"

"There's a knife in his thigh, so mystery solved," Donatello wisecracked, as he arranged his first aid supplies.

"Do you remember kicking it into him while you fought two other guys?" Raphael pressed.

Donnie chuckled. "That's preposterous."

"Then how'd you do it?" Raphael quizzed.

Don rolled his eyes dismissively. He had more important things to worry about. He handed Raphael a bit of leather. "Bite down on this. I'm going to set your arm now."

Raphael would've continued hounding Donatello, but he passed out. The next time he woke up, he was in Donatello's lab, laying on a cot, surrounded by his brothers and his father.

"Ack," Raphael groaned. "The light."

"Sorry, sorry," Michelangelo hissed. He jumped out of his chair and turned off the light.

"Hey, I was using that," Donatello complained.

"Sorry, sorry," Mikey said again. He flicked the light back on.

"Gah!" Raph moaned. He closed his eyes and attempted to put an arm across them. It freaking hurt! He'd forgotten that he'd broken it.

Raphael winced and opened his eyes to check the damage. He had expected to be in a cast, but instead, he was in a homemade brace, that seemed to be temporary. He looked to Leonardo, silently demanding an explanation.

Leonardo grinned. "Hey, Raph. Good to see you with your eyes open."

"Whatever," Raphael dismissed. "Does someone want to explain what's going on?"

"Well, Donatello got you to the rally point," Leo answered. "We've been home for a few hours now. You've been going in and out of consciousness since we got you back. You have a concussion and a broken arm."

Raphael could tell that there was more. He glared at Leo, not so patiently awaiting the rest of the story. Leo slumped in his chair. "Donatello, Master Splinter and I have all tried to set your arm, but it's not sitting right."

Raphael closed his eyes. "Awesome."

"Don't worry too much," Leo comforted. "Don thinks that he has a solution."

As of on cue, Donatello stepped forward. "Does your arm hurt?" he asked.

"Yup," Raphael confirmed.

Don poked his hand. "Do you feel this?"

"Yup," Raphael repeated.

Donatello touched Raphael's wrist. "What about here?"

"Yup," Raphael repeated, yet again.

"Okay," Donatello said, producing an alcohol swab. "I'm going to inject you with a numbing agent."

Before Raphael could complain, Donatello had already done it. "Excuse me," Don said. He tossed the syringe into the garbage with one hand and pulled out his phone with the other.

"Yes, I'm calling to arrange for rental of a portable x-ray scanner. Any bedside model will do." Don paused to listen. "Mmm hmm. Mmm hmm. Yes, it sounds like that one will do nicely. We just need a one-day rental while our main machine is being repaired. Now, is that available for immediate pickup? Mmm hmm. Okay. No, I don't need to set up an account. Let's just put it on my credit card. Okay. Thank you. Delivery?- no thanks. I'll just send someone from the staff to come pick it up. We've worked with these before. Set up won't be an issue. Okay. Thank you. We'll see you in an hour." Don hung up the phone.

"I'll call April," Leonardo volunteered. "She can pick it up in the van and bring it down here."

Don returned to Raphael's bedside and began poking his arm. "Do you feel that?"

Raphael glared at him, warningly. "No."

Don poked another spot. "Do you feel that?"

"No!" Raphael yelled, despite the pounding in his skull. "Could you just slow down for a minute! What's going through your head right now, Donatello?"

Don shrunk down a little. "Well, the bone won't stay set, so we need to pin or screw the broken pieces together. I need an x-ray machine to figure out the best way to do that. Then, I need to make the pins, or screws, or plates, or wires, or _whatever_, then do the surgery."

"Surgery!" Raphael barked. "No way that I'm letting you do surgery on me!"

"If you want a fully functional arm again, you will," Donatello countered.

"You're no doctor, Donatello," Raphael felt the need to point out.

For a moment, Donatello looked very tired. He sat down on the corner of the cot, next to Raph's knees. "Believe me, I know. But we don't have access to real doctors, and unless you want one of the others to do it, this is going to fall to me."

The look on Don's face made Raph feel so guilty. He'd managed to get himself hurt, somehow. It was all his fault that Donatello was getting this dumped on him. But here Don was, stepping up to the plate yet again, and here Raphael was, shouting and openly doubting Don's competence. Really, when had Donatello ever failed any of them?

Raphael reached out with his good arm and touched Don's hand. "So, you think you can do this?"

Donatello brightened a little. "Yeah. I wouldn't take the risk if I wasn't. It's a fairly minor procedure. I'm not going to try to put you to sleep. That'd be way too risky. Instead, I'll just use the numbing agent as local anesthesia. I'll use the x-ray to figure out the best place to cut, and the best way to set the bone. Then, I'll get in and out as quick as possible, so that you don't lose too much blood. It'll be fine!"

"Whatever you say," Raphael consented.

Don spent about 24 hours preparing for the surgery. He had to figure out how to run the x-ray machine, prepare a surgical plan, then make the required bone pins. Raphael was fairly confident that Donatello didn't sleep during that time, which made him a bit nervous, given that Donatello was now standing over him with a scalpel. Donnie told him not to worry, then asked Leonardo to tie on the blindfold. All in all, the surgery took less than a half hour. Donatello played the part of surgeon, with Leonardo and Master Splinter assisting. Mikey's job was to keep Raphael calm and hold his good hand.

When it was over, Mikey removed the blindfold. Raphael watched Donatello stitch him up, then apply a temporary cast. "Alright," Don said, finishing up with the wrap. "Everything looked really good. Once the anesthesia wears off, we'll test the function in your hand to make sure that there's no nerve damage. I think that the bone will be just fine, though."

"Thanks, Dr. Don," Raph said warmly.

Donatello smiled. "No problem." He tossed his custom-designed surgical gloves into the trash can and brought a hand up to massage his sore shoulder muscles. "If you're feeling all right, I'm going to catch a nap."

"I'd say you earned it," Raphael consented. "I'm feeling fine."

"Okay." Don yawned, then looked to Leonardo. "Come get me if anything seems off."

"Hey, Donnie?" Raphael called before Donatello could leave the room "I'm really sorry about all this."

"Don't be," Don said, firmly. "You only got hurt because you were watching my back, as always."

Raphael chose not to argue. Due to the concussion, he had no recollection of how he got hurt. Instead, he said, "It's good to know that you're watching mine too."

"Of course," Donatello replied. He yawned again as he was leaving. "Always."

After the sound of Donatello's footsteps died out, Raphael turned to Leonardo. "Have you ever seen Donnie spin on the top of his shell, then use only his neck to spring up to his feet?"

Leonardo chuckled. "Nobody could do that, Raphael. You'd better get some rest too."

* * *

Master Splinter allowed Raphael to sit in on practice the next day, although he was not allowed to participate. Instead, he studied his family and found himself wondering where the Donatello he had seen on that rooftop had disappeared to. Even if Raphael had been hallucinating, the pile of defeated warriors served as a testament to Donatello's strength and power.

Today, Donatello could hardly get a decent hit in. Sure, Don still seemed tired and it appeared that he had a sore neck, but those two things alone didn't explain the discrepancy. "Come on, Donnie," Raphael found himself cheering after Michelangelo knocked the genius down yet again. "You can do better than that!"

Donatello frowned and adjusted his purple mask. "Since when do you play the role of cheerleader, Raphael?"

"Since I'm being forced to sit on the sidelines, I guess. But, I also think that the rest of us could stand to learn a little from you, and since when are you shy about teaching?" Raphael wondered.

"I don't think that I have a darn thing to teach you guys when it comes to martial arts," Donatello replied. "Physics, maybe."

"Is that your secret? Were you using physics?" Raphael asked.

"Not this again," Donatello groaned.

"Not _what_ again?" Michelangelo wondered, if only to delay the next match.

"Raphael thinks that I have some sort of superpowers that I haven't told you about," Don dismissed.

"Like what? Flying?" Mikey asked.

Raphael blew out a frustrated puff of air. "No, just crazy fighting moves he's been holding back."

"Not true," Donnie said with a chuckle. "I've only got my regular stuff that you guys see every day. Raph is just having a hard time grasping reality."

"I'm not the one who claims not to be able to remember what happened," Raphael pointed out.

"Oh please," Don scoffed. "Who remembers every single move that they make in a fight?"

"I do," Leonardo said softly, raising one hand halfway up into the air.

"Nobody asked you!" Raphael snapped.

"Didn't Donnie just ask…" Leo shook his head. "Nevermind. Back to practice."

Donatello's supposed fancy moves, which he insisted were a figment of Raphael's concussed imagination, were the source of endless good-natured teasing in the next few weeks. Both Leonardo and Michelangelo attempted their own variations, only to be met with abject failure. They attempted to coerce Don into giving them a demonstration, but he continued to insist that what Raphael had described wasn't possible. He absolutely refused to entertain any ideas to the contrary. Eventually, Michelangelo drew a step-by-step comic of everything that Raphael insisted that he had seen, in the hopes that it would help the others to learn the proper steps.

"You can't be serious," Donnie said as he leafed through the pages. "For the last time, Raphael imagined all of that!" Donatello pointed to a particularly offensive panel. "I mean, look at this!"

"Why are you being so modest about this, Donatello?" Raphael asked. "Just admit you've got the moves!"

"Because I don't have the moves! No one does! I'm not being modest!" Don insisted. "I just don't want anyone getting hurt while attempting the impossible."

"You were rubbing your neck a lot those first few days," Michelangelo considered. "You sure it wasn't from doing a neck-spring?"

"There's no such thing as a neck-spring!" Don persisted. "I was rubbing my neck because I was stressed out. Over a period of 48 hours, I diffused a mutagen bomb, beat back an army, jumped across rooftops covering several city blocks with an unconscious brother on my back, and then planned and performed impromptu surgery on said brother. Excuse me for developing a crick in my neck!"

"Well, I guess he wasn't kidding about not being modest," Michelangelo quipped.

A few days later, Donatello signed into a specialized computer program that he'd written. The turtles had always feared being discovered, and with the proliferation of security cameras, traffic cameras, ATM cameras, even doorbell cameras, eliminating digital footprints had become quite important. Donnie had hacked as many online data repositories as he could, and left behind a few lines of his own code. Basically, it tracked the locations of the turtles via their cell phones. If any camera feeds had caught them, Don's code would digitally erase the turtles' presence, so that no one reviewing the videos ever saw them.

But first, the unedited footage was sent to a little database that only Donatello had access to, just in case it was ever needed. Donnie checked the files from the night that Raphael had been hurt. Sure enough, there was a security camera mounted over the door of the shed that Raphael had been holed up in.

Donnie clicked on the footage, fully expecting to see a standard fighting sequence. After confirming that Raphael had been hallucinating, Don planned to show the footage to his brothers, in the hopes of putting an end to the crazy-talk once and for all. He hit play and zoomed ahead to the time of the battle. Don's jaw practically hit the desk as he watched the footage. He had done everything that Raphael had claimed he did, and more.

Knowing now that he really _could_ execute those moves, Donnie closed the computer program, cleared a spot on his lab floor, and attempted to reproduce what he had just seen. He jumped and spun in the air, falling into a backward somersault. He swung his hips and rolled a shoulder. It set him spinning rapidly on the lip of his shell, just like he had seen on the video. So far so good.

He didn't dare throw anything, but he pretended to be tossing shuriken. Telling himself to believe that the next part really _was_ possible, he rapidly arched his neck, attempting to spring upwards.

It did not work.

"Ack!" he hollered, as he violently pulled every single muscle in his neck. He got just enough elevation to inadvertently flip over onto his side. The momentum from the spin sent him careening across the room, only stopping when he collided with his desk chair.

The resulting crash sent all of his brothers running. "Donatello, what happened?!" Leonardo demanded, offering his brother a hand in getting up off of the floor.

"I slipped," Don fibbed, rubbing his sore neck.

"And landed underneath your desk?" Michelangelo said, doubtfully.

Raphael squinted in disbelief but decided to keep his mouth shut. He owed Donatello at least that much.

That night, Donatello had to sleep with several heating pads. He never told his brothers about what he saw on that video. Showing off and gaining bragging rights was highly unnecessary. It was clear that he'd never be able to replicate those moves in practice anyway. It was one of those adrenaline-fueled acts that was only possible in the heat of the moment, like lifting a car off of a baby. But, it was good to know what he was capable of, just in case he ever had to play bodyguard to an out-of-commission brother again.


	3. Crash Landing

The turtles had a habit of finding themselves in places that pretty much no one in their right mind would ever dare to approach - the sewers that they called home, hostile alien planets, prehistoric eras where it was a constant struggle to keep themselves from being converted into dinosaur food. Still, this particular scenario really took the cake. Try though he may, Leonardo could not think of a worse place to be than aboard a crashing cargo plane as it plummeted towards the densely populated city below.

At least the situation had slightly improved after the Foot had decided to surrender the battle and abandon ship a few minutes ago. Of course, that also meant that the plane was now a few minutes closer to hitting the ground. Not only that, but their enemies had managed to escape with the cargo, which would have really aggravated Leo if he wasn't too busy panicking to think about anything other than his impending doom.

Leonardo braced himself against the cockpit doorway as he looked with terror at the two olive green legs sticking out from beneath the remains of the smoking control panel. "Any luck yet, Donnie?" he asked for what might have been the third or fourth time in the last five minutes.

"No! Nothing! Half the wiring is toast!" Donatello's muffled voice responded. But, rather than coming back out, Donatello attempted to push deeper in, the sides of his shell grinding against the edges of the hole that had been blasted in the console.

Electrical sparks briefly lit up the darkened cabin, and Leonardo couldn't bear to watch anymore. He didn't care to think about the possibility of Donnie electrocuting himself down there. Instead, Leo turned to his brother in the pilot's seat. "Raph, if Donnie does manage to bring the controls back online, are you _sure_ that you can fly this thing?"

"For a few minutes, anyway," Raphael answered. "Until Don can get the rest of it patched up enough for him to take over."

Leonardo looked doubtfully at the smoking right engine. They would cross that bridge when they came to it.

"Mikey! Grab me that fire extinguisher!" Donatello called.

"It's on fire now?" Leonardo whimpered.

"Only a little," Donatello answered. Michelangelo placed the fire extinguisher on top of the family genius's plastron, and a pair of sooty, grease and blood-smeared hands reached out to snap it up. There was a pop and a hiss followed by a way too calm sounding, "that's better."

A few seconds later, the lights on the heavily damaged console flickered, then, miraculously, lit up and stayed on. Raphael pushed Leonardo aside. "We've got power!" Raphael proclaimed.

Donatello began to wriggle out. Leonardo instinctively yanked his ankles, to get their engineer and potential savior freed up that much faster. Don yelped in surprise as his shell screeched against the jagged metal. For a moment, Leonardo felt guilty, but that feeling was quickly abated as Donatello immediately hopped to his feet. He nodded his thanks as he sprinted towards the smoking engine.

Donatello peered out the nearest window. "I don't see any obvious physical damage. Maybe it just shut down when we lost the controls. We can try to restart it." He pivoted and ran back towards Raphael, hopping over the back of the co-pilot's seat and landing neatly beside his brother.

"How do you restart an engine?" Raphael asked.

"I'm not exactly sure," Donatello answered. "The process varies depending upon the model. Is there a button?"

"There's a lot of buttons!" Raphael cried.

Donatello leaned over him and hit the one marked 'Right Master.' He then turned to Leonardo. "Do you see anything?"

"See what?" Leonardo screeched, holding onto a nearby seat back as the plane began to jostle even worse than before.

"Is the intake fan powering back up? Any new noises? More smoke? Anything, Leo!" Donatello snapped.

Leonardo stumbled over to the window. "I don't know, but the ground is getting closer!"

"Guys, we've got to bail!" Michelangelo opined. "We've got enough parachutes!" He gestured to the extra equipment that the Foot had left behind.

"We're over the City," Leonardo replied. "If this thing crashes, innocent people on the ground are going to pay the price."

"It's crashing either way!" Michelangelo panicked. "It's just a matter of whether we're on board at the time or not."

"A plane with engine damage will still glide," Donatello reasoned while frantically hitting buttons. "It'll probably crash when it lands, but if we stay on board for as long as possible, we can still control where it hits, and minimize damage and injuries to innocent bystanders."

"It'll only glide if we can maintain some semblance of control," Raphael hollered. "It's pitching!"

Don ran a hand over his head, inadvertently depositing a glob of grease. "Having one good engine and one sputtering one isn't helping with that."

"Get the bad one going, then! I can't keep control like this!" Raphael ordered.

"I know, Raph!" Donnie whined. "I'm thinking."

"Think faster!" Michelangelo begged.

"As far as we know, all the damage is inside the plane's cabin," Donatello considered. The plane hadn't been hit by a missile, simply damaged during the massive fight that had taken place inside of it. "That means that I ought to be able to fix the damage from the inside."

"We're losing altitude here," Raphael interrupted.

"Unless the engine was damaged when the controls shorted out. Maybe some sort of mechanical failure happened after that?" Donatello continued rambling while he studied the cockpit warning lights. "But if that was the case, why did it only affect one of the engines?"

"Don, what do we do?" Raphael shouted. At this point, everyone was holding on for dear life as the plane shuddered harder and harder. It felt moments from breaking apart entirely. All the muscles on Raphael's arms were tensed as he fought with all his might to keep the plane steady.

Donatello looked at the altimeter. "At this point, we may be too low to fully restart the bad engine anyway. Maybe we cut them both off and just glide?"

"Or bail!" Mikey advocated for his preferred option, waving a parachute in each hand.

"You want to cut the good engine too?!" Raphael balked. "That guarantees that we go down somewhere in the city! We don't have the height or the juice to make it out of here!"

"Don! What do we do?!" Leonardo begged. It was rare, but panic had completely overtaken him. The ground was closing in fast. It was now or never if they were going to jump and parachute.

Donatello grabbed his head again. "I don't know, alright!" he exploded. He closed his eyes and ran his hands down his face, streaking blood and grease like war paint. He deflated, opened his eyes again, and locked them on Leo's. Don shrugged and shook his head in defeat. "I don't know," he said much more softly.

In that moment, despite his own terror, Leonardo was overcome with sympathy for his brother. When had Donatello ever said that phrase aloud and meant it? Leo's mouth opened and closed again. He could have sworn that time had frozen somehow.

But, just like that, the moment was over - the shock and confusion replaced with clarity. If Donatello didn't know what to do, it was Leo's turn to step back in. "We've got to bail!" Leonardo announced. "We've done our best. Let's go."

Michelangelo thrust parachutes at each of them. "Finally!" he cheered.

Suddenly, Donatello grabbed Leonardo's wrist. "Wait!"

"For what?" Leonardo snapped. "We can't wait!"

"We can't jump here," Donatello insisted. "This is practically the center of the city. People will see. They'll meet us where we land!"

"It's that or they dig our bodies out of the wreckage," Leonardo argued. "We take our chances with getting caught. Just be prepared to hit the ground running."

"No!" Donatello yelled. His grip around Leo's wrist tightened as the plane bucked violently. "We get her over water. Then you guys jump and I bring the plane down."

"Over water!" Raphael howled. "How?! I can hardly hold this thing steady, never mind find and follow a river!"

"I can do it," Donatello hollered. "You just get to the back and prepare to jump. When the time is right, I'll reopen the cargo bay doors."

Leonardo frowned. "You want us to leave you here?"

Donatello flipped a few switches, and the engines cut out, leaving the cockpit much quieter. The plane was now a simple glider. Don had flown them before. Granted, they were much smaller versions. He took a deep breath.

"You can help me find the Hudson, first," he said calmly.

"Don, you're not Chesley Sullenberger," Raphael grunted.

Donatello smiled nervously. "I know. I'm not going to land this thing. I'm going to ditch it."

"Let's also try not to bring down the George Washington Bridge in the process," Leonardo requested.

The turtles managed to find the river. Donatello and Raphael followed it as the plane dropped lower and lower. They fought the controls more and more as the earth approached. Finally, Donatello made the call and opened the cargo bay doors. "You all get to the back and jump," he hollered above the raging wind currents. "I'll be right behind you."

Michelangelo ran to the back without hesitation, but Leonardo couldn't bring himself to move. This went against his every instinct as a leader. He couldn't leave a brother behind on a crashing plane. Raphael apparently felt the same way, because he hadn't moved either.

"Go!" Donatello insisted. "Mikey is jumping with or without you!"

Leonardo realized that Don was right and took off. He and Mikey held hands and jumped.

Raphael and Donatello turned to each other. "Go!" they simultaneously ordered one another.

"I'm a better pilot than you," Raphael pointed out.

"This was my plan," Donatello argued.

The plane was only about 50 feet above the river. They couldn't go down with it, because rescue ships were undoubtedly on the way already. If they didn't clear the wreckage, they risked capture. Arguing who would stay was already taking too long. They nodded in silent agreement as they both stood. Don steadied the controls for another moment using his bo staff. He and Raphael rounded the seats and inched away from the cockpit. When the time was right, they nodded at one another, then ran with all their might to the back of the plane.

* * *

That night, Donatello tiptoed down the hall, having left the lab far later than he had intended to after studying up on midair emergencies. It never hurt to be prepared for the next potential disaster.

Staying up late was a fairly common occurrence for him. Also common was finding a brother awake. Raphael enjoyed sneaking into and out of the Lair in the wee hours of the night; Michelangelo enjoyed marathon video game and comic book sessions, regardless of the hour. What was exceedingly uncommon was what Donatello encountered on this particular night - light pouring out from beneath Leonardo's closed bedroom door.

Donatello paused in the hallway, considering what to do. He didn't want to disturb Leonardo, but he was also a bit worried that something might be wrong. The day had been pretty dramatic, after all. Finally, Don tapped on the door and softly called "Leo? Are you awake?"

The sound of footsteps approached, answering Don's question. The door cracked open. "Hey, Donnie. Are you okay?" a tired-looking Leonardo greeted.

"Yeah," Donatello answered. "Are you?"

Leonardo considered his answer. The unspoken rule around their home was that if anyone ever asked you if you were okay, the response was always 'yes,' unless you had a very specific problem that needed to be dealt with, like 'I broke my leg,' or 'I'm hungry.' It wasn't that the guys didn't love and care about each other because of course, they did! It's just that they were _guys_ \- teenage guys from an all-male household devoted to training and living a certain tough-guy lifestyle. Discussing your feelings didn't exactly fit in with that lifestyle.

But still, if there was anyone Leonardo could talk to about his troubles, it was Donatello. There were some things Master Splinter was better off not knowing. Raphael would've run out of the room at the first mention of _feelings_. Michelangelo had the attention span of a gnat. But, out of all the turtles, Donnie had never been afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve, to appear soft, or offer sympathy. His decision made, Leonardo opened the door the rest of the way. "Come on in."

Donatello frowned with concern and took a seat on the edge of Leonardo's bed. Leo closed the door and plopped down beside his brother. "I'm okay," Leonardo finally answered.

"But?" Donatello prompted.

Leonardo sighed. "_But_, we came pretty close to not being okay."

Donatello chuckled. "Yeah. We have a tendency to do that."

"I know," Leonardo replied.

"So, what's bugging you about this particular incident?" Donatello pressed.

Leonardo took a moment to consider how he wanted to phrase this. "That moment in the plane, when I asked you what to do, and you said that you didn't know."

Leo's mind flashed back to it - the roar of wind and the horrible metallic shuddering, the crushed and hopeless look on Donnie's face. Leonardo was sure that he had been wearing a similar look on his own face. He never wanted to see or experience anything like that again.

Donatello leaned back, thunking his shell against the wall. "That."

Leonardo slid back as well. "Yeah, that. Have we ever had that happen before?"

Donatello fiddled with the bandages around his thumb and index finger. He'd torn the skin up pretty badly while frantically rewiring the control panel. It made Leonardo feel terrible, to know how desperately Donnie had been working, only to have his so-called leader keep applying more and more pressure. Don had literally been working his fingers to the bone, and Leo had been completely useless. No, he had been worse than useless; He'd been an added stressor.

"It's not like I know how to do _everything_," Donatello finally answered. "I'm sure that we've had similar incidents in the past. This one is just fresh, so it stings more. Besides, that moment passed and we figured things out."

"You figured things out," Leonardo corrected.

Donatello smirked. "Does it really matter who it was?"

"A little," Leo said, sadly. "Sometimes it feels like you _do_ know how to do everything. But I know that you're only human." The corners of Leo's lips quirked. "Or so to speak. Do I put too much pressure on you, Donnie?"

Donatello continued to fiddle with his bandages. "No," he said while looking downwards.

"Look me in the eyes this time," Leonardo demanded. "Do I put too much pressure on you?"

Ever the obedient soldier, Donatello did look up. "No. Most of the pressure that I feel comes from inside, not from you. I was aboard a crashing plane too, Leo."

Leonardo cringed. "And as the leader, I was responsible for putting you there, and for getting us into the fight that caused all the damage."

"Oh please. We're not sheep," Donatello grumbled. "None of us are afraid to question you when you give an order that we don't agree with."

Leonardo put his hands up. "I know," he said, quickly. The topic of his leadership was still tricky. It's not like his brothers were mindless drones, and he never intended to treat them as such. But, he couldn't help but feel responsible, especially when things went wrong. Leo sighed. "But, ultimately I _am_ the one responsible for getting us into these situations, at least most of the time. And yet, I can't always get us out of them."

"And when you can't, you have the rest of us," Don comforted.

"I know, but I shouldn't just expect you to work miracles. It's unrealistic to believe that you'll come through every time. Someday, we're going to find ourselves in a situation that even you can't get us out of."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Donatello joked.

"I'm being serious," Leonardo warned. "You know, when we were kids, it felt like you were some sort of magician. I didn't even have much of a concept of what electricity even was, and suddenly you had wired up our home, installed lights, then eventually the TV, appliances, gaming systems, computers, security."

"I am pretty great," Donatello teased.

"Again - being serious," Leonardo scolded. "You still work all this magic. I still don't know how you do it. My expectations of you are just… they're sky-high, Donnie. And, it's not fair. You're a mere mortal like the rest of us, not some all-powerful wizard put on earth to magically correct all of my screw-ups."

"Well, when have our lives ever been fair?" Donatello replied. "It's not like there's any resentment on my part. I usually enjoy my role on the team."

Leonardo snickered. "Usually."

"Well, obviously it stinks when we're in a life or death situation and all the pressure is on me," Donatello admitted.

"My point exactly," Leonardo said with a nod.

"But, that pressure is yours far more often than mine," Donatello reminded his brother. "I don't mind carrying my share of it, on those occasions that I'm asked to. The burden shouldn't be yours all the time, Leo."

Leo smiled for the first time in what felt like a while. "Thanks for that, Donnie. Really."

"And when did we even screw up?" Donatello pressed. "From where I stand it was a pretty successful mission."

"The Foot managed to escape with the plane's cargo," Leonardo answered. "We never even figured out for sure what it was or where it was going, but it must be important if they fought so hard for it."

"We'll figure it out," Don comforted. "We always do."

"Or they'll fly it out on another plane while we're asleep, and this whole fiasco will have been for nothing," Leonardo pouted.

Donatello grimaced. It was a disturbing thought, but hardly the end of the world. The Foot did all sorts of things that the turtles would never know about. That was just the nature of life. If whatever the Foot was planning was important, it would come to light eventually. They'd have another chance to stop it then.

Donatello could tell from Leonardo's demeanor that they had only scraped the surface of what was really troubling the leader in blue. "Is all this beginning to feel like too much for you?" Don pressed.

"No," Leonardo said automatically. "I like my place on the team too. It's just that ..." Leo sighed. "I guess sometimes I wonder why we even do it at all. We're just kids, really, and most of the people we fight to protect would just as soon kill us on sight as thank us. There are nights when I wonder why we continue to put ourselves through all of this. Does that sound terrible?"

"It doesn't sound terrible," Donatello quickly replied. He leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling. "I ask myself these things too."

Leonardo raised his eye ridges. "Ever find any answers?"

Donatello shrugged. "Because it's the right thing to do?"

"Is it really though?" Leonardo wondered aloud. "Ethics are rarely black and white. They're almost always shades of grey. Maybe, by trying to do right by the world at large, we're forgetting to do right by the people in our own family. What if one of us were to get killed someday? Would the rest of us still be able to convince ourselves that joining all of these fights was the right thing to do? Or, what if, because of our actions, that plane had crashed in the city and killed a bunch of people, and it turned out that the cargo was just something harmless, like counterfeit sneakers?"

Leonardo hesitated before continuing. "And, on a larger scale, perhaps us defeating our enemies on such a consistent basis is actually doing more harm than good. Maybe if we weren't so efficient in stopping them before they could carry out their plans, they'd be caught by the authorities and tried in a court of law. Maybe the Foot Clan would be completely dismantled."

"That's all possible. But, it's also possible that our enemies would be successful, and that a bunch of innocent lives would be lost. Then, we'd be kicking ourselves for not intervening," Donatello countered. "We just have to follow our instincts and do the best we can. Besides, I think that all of our adventures give our lives meaning."

Leonardo hummed. "I agree. It was kind of cool to go from a sheltered life in the sewers to this boundless existence that we seem to know now. But at a certain point, it's going to get old, right? So what do you think comes after that?"

"After we're done fighting, you mean?" Don clarified. "I think that's different for each of us."

"So, you don't think that we'll always be together?" Leonardo wondered. He knew that he was going off on an unrelated tangent, but it felt good to talk like this. It was something that he hardly ever did, and thoughts of the future sometimes bothered him. He was fully aware that their lifestyle wasn't sustainable.

Donatello examined the ceiling. "I don't know. I guess I always thought we'd stick together. I just figured that we'd spend more time pursuing our own interests as we age. I'd invent more than I fought. You'd travel more. Raph would head out on his own more often. Mikey...well, who knows what Mikey would do."

"I think we'll always be together," Leonardo replied. "As long as we're alive at least."

Donatello smiled. "I hope so."

The two were quiet for a while, both perfectly content to linger in their exhausted brotherly camaraderie. Leonardo felt his eyes slipping to half-mast, but a new thought occurred to his wandering mind, and he couldn't help but to give it voice.

"Whenever we watch those dumb action movies that Raph and Mikey like, I always think about how similar our lives are to those crazy parts with all the explosions and epic battles. Those are the parts that most people would roll their eyes at and consider ridiculously unrealistic. To us, stuff like that is commonplace. What's unrealistic for us is the ending, where the hero gets the girl or wins his fortune, or whatever, and then rides off into the sunset and lives happily ever after."

Donatello frowned. "Are you saying that you're not happy, Leo?"

"No," Leonardo answered. "I am, for now at least. I think that I'm just saying that all we'll ever have is each other. We'll never have marriages, or children, or fancy homes and lots of money. So, we need to prioritize each other's happiness - do our best to make our own happy ending, whatever that might look like for us. If I'm ever putting too much pressure on you or stressing you out too much, I want you to let me know. I need you here for the long haul, and I don't want to burn you out or make you snap under pressure."

"I will," Donatello promised. He made it a point to look Leonardo in the eyes. "But from where I stand, I'm not the one who's stressed out at the moment. You should know that you can always talk to me too. I know that I get pretty busy and disappear into my lab a lot, but I'll always make time for you. I promise, Leo."

"Thanks, Don." Leo smiled devilishly. "And, it goes without saying that we never tell Raph that we had this little conversation, right?"

"Don't worry, Leo. My lips are sealed." Donatello chuckled, then stretched out and moved back to the edge of the bed. "Well, are you feeling any better? You should really try to get some sleep. Master Splinter will have us up in a few hours."

"I am feeling better," Leonardo answered, truthfully. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime," Don said with a grin. He clapped Leo on the shoulder, then hit the lights on his way out the door.

Leonardo pulled the covers over his body and rested his head on the pillow. As was his habit, he took a few moments to meditate on the day before allowing himself to drift off to sleep. There had certainly been some bad parts, but, when he really thought about it, they were vastly overshadowed by the good parts. Thanks to his family, he could say that about most of his days. That sure felt like a victory to him.


	4. A Helping Hand

Raphael was the only one who saw it happen in any detail. They'd all been so busy with their own battles. Donatello seemed to be holding his own, doing better than his brothers even. That's what made it so crazy.

Don had dodged out of the way of a giant stone fist. The punch was so intense that it cracked the solid earth beneath it. Don stayed low as he skidded away, his gaze intensifying like it always did when he was deep in concentration. He recovered from his skid, using one hand to control its direction. His muscles coiled and he used his bo to vault upwards, landing on his enemy's shoulder, 15 feet in the air. He stabbed out with his bo, taking aim at something shining in the stone giant's chest - something that had previously gone unnoticed.

"These medallions," he shouted to his brothers below. "That's what's allowing them to keep reanimating!" Don jumped as the giant tried to swipe him away, twisting in the air and landing adeptly on its other shoulder. He stabbed out with his might, and the amulet broke free. Don leaped down and landed on the ground gracefully, spinning to watch his opponent fall. That was really where he made his biggest mistake, spinning instead of leaping away or simply hitting the deck.

The turtles had been fighting for 15 hard minutes and managed to take a few giants down during that time. Each time, they fell straight down to the earth, breaking upon contact, then reanimating moments afterward. Don couldn't have known that knocking out the amulet would've caused the stone creature to explode outwards into a hurricane of flying rocks. He couldn't have known, but he'd kick himself for years after for not being able to foresee it.

He'd spun because he had wanted to ensure that the beast didn't stumble in its fall, possibly threatening his brothers as they battled the other giants. He'd done what he thought made sense at the time. But it was stupid, so stupid.

Don landed and began a clockwise spin, preparing to spring up and land on top of the newly inanimate pile of rocks that should have been there. He swung his arms around ahead of him and set his bo in the ground, even before he finished turning, in one of his trademark lightning-fast moves. He planted his leading right leg and prepared to kick with his left, his powerful arm and shoulder muscles transferring all of his energy to his bo and that planted right leg, which was already holding the weight of his body, and straining to halt his spinning motion. His eyes widened as suddenly he realized that a series of boulders were flying through the air. One headed directly for his knee, only microseconds from hitting it.

Given how quickly Donatello's mind worked, he knew what was about to happen, but he was helpless to stop it. The boulder crashed directly into his kneecap and lower leg, causing it to buckle. Don could feel everything connecting his upper and lower leg rip apart. His knee and lower leg pitched backward with the rock. His upper body, still caught in that damn spin, twisted and pitched forward. The hyperextension was so severe that Don banged his chest against the rock.

Raphael saw it. He wished he didn't. It was the stuff of nightmares, even worse than those gruesome injuries that you see during football games - the ones that the telecasters refuse to show replays of. As sickening as it was, it was over in an instant. Don's upper body reversed direction and fell backward. The boulder rolled off of Don's leg and settled down beside him. Raph could see Don paw through the dirt to better shield himself next to the boulder. He saw how violently Don's hands were trembling when he reached out to correct his damaged limb's position before collapsing next to the chunk of rock that had just obliterated his life as he had known it in an instant.

"They explode when the medallions are removed!" Raphael hollered to Leonardo and Michelangelo. He tried to keep an eye on Donatello as he fought his own opponent. Don was lying still as death, his face tight, eyes squeezed shut. The only reason Raphael knew that he was conscious was that he could see Don's fingers digging into the ground as they, contorted in agony. Raphael wanted to reach Donnie's side, but he couldn't risk drawing the battle any closer to his downed brother.

Leonardo dared look over his shoulder as he fought two giants at once. "Where's Don?"

"He's down!" Raphael shouted, jumping away from a stone fist. "Hurt bad!"

To Raph's surprise, Don added, "Not dying," in a voice that sounded nothing like his own. Raph couldn't believe Don was able to talk at all.

"Stay down, Don," Leo ordered. "If these guys explode, we've got to fight them from a distance. Use your shuriken. Aim for the medallions!"

Donatello occasionally managed to open an eye. He watched as his brothers completed what he was fairly certain would be his final battle. He tried to stay awake and coherent, but his mind was in constant war with pain and shock that was threatening to overwhelm him.

Finally, Michelangelo came to his side, distressed to see how badly Don was trembling. "Where are you hurt?"

"Knee," Don gulped. "Right knee."

Mikey tentatively reached his hand out, intending to check for broken bones. Don didn't stop him. Mikey's touch was light as a feather, but it was still too much. "Don't!" Don hissed.

"Don, we're going to have to set it before we can move you," Mikey reasoned. The way Don's leg was twisted was all wrong. It was swollen and discolored already, and Mikey had noticed how warm it was. Not good.

"I know," Don whimpered. "But I can't…"

Mikey crawled towards Don's head and rubbed his shoulder. "I know," he soothed. "I know. We'll wait for Leo and Raph, get you something to bite down on."

"Okay," Don whispered. He reached out and weakly clasped Mikey's hand while they waited.

In the end, it took both Leo and Raph to hold Don still enough for Mikey to brace his knee. By then, Donatello was bordering upon incoherent.

Donatello passed out on the ride home, and Splinter administered a sedative to ensure that he stayed that way. It only took one look at Don's leg to know that an extended period of unconsciousness would be a mercy for the boy.

Leonardo rented a portable ultrasound to take a look at the damage, using the same methods than Don had used to rent the bedside X-ray for Raphael years before. Cruelly, it was necessary to wake Don prior to using it. The assembly and operating instructions were too complex for the rest of them, and Don was the only one who would know what he was looking at anyway. They cut off the sedatives but pumped as many painkillers as they could into the IV line that they had set up the night before.

Don whimpered and moaned for a good two hours before regaining consciousness. It was heartbreaking to hear those noises coming from him. Eventually, his eyes flickered open. Leonardo hated how dark and hazy they looked. "Donnie," he whispered.

Don's eyes wandered to his knee, then closed again. He was covered in several blankets to stave off shock, but the bulk of a heavy brace was visible through the layers of cotton-poly blend. "So that really happened," Don mumbled. "Damn." He lifted his trembling hand and pinched between his eyes. "Damn, damn."

"I'm sorry," Leo said. "It did. The good news is that we can't find any breaks, other than in your kneecap. The bad news is that the joint is twice its normal size and before we braced it, it was very... unstable."

"Yup," Don breathed. He could vaguely recall repositioning it on the battlefield. His lower leg had hardly seemed connected to his knee at all. He was lucky that the popliteal artery hadn't ruptured right then and there.

Leo sighed. "Don't try to move, by the way. We immobilized your knee, but we also lashed you to the bed for good measure."

"Okay," Don murmured. He hadn't been intending to move anyway. Not for a very long time. "How long was I out?"

"It's been about 20 hours," Leonardo explained. "We sedated you overnight. You were just in too much pain. How are you feeling now?"

"Foggy," Don answered. "How many painkillers am I on?"

"You're maxed out on morphine," Leo answered.

"That explains it."

"What's your pain level?"

Don thought about lying, but in the end, he answered honestly. "Eight."

Leo shook his head sadly and caressed Don's shoulder. "Okay. Well, at least you stopped shaking. That's something anyway."

Don closed his eyes. "Mmm."

"So listen, I know that this is a lot to ask of you right now, but we rented a portable ultrasound. Can you talk me through setting it up?" Leonardo requested.

"Hmm?"

"We can't… It's too complicated for us to set up. Can you help out?" Leo elaborated. "We'll do the work, run the scan."

"What scan?" Donatello murmured.

Leo frowned. Don had brain fog all right. "The scan we need to do of your knee."

"My knee?"

Leo took his brother's hand. "You hurt your knee, Don."

Don grimaced. "I know."

"We need to assess the damage, figure out how to fix it," Leonardo patiently explained.

Don closed his eyes, deciding whether he should allow himself to drift back into his drug-induced slumber. He didn't need to run any tests to know that he'd never use his knee again. He'd known that the second he saw that boulder closing in. Still, Leo had apparently already rented the scanner. He had taken the risk of going to the surface to pick it up. The daily rental fee was quite expensive. Not only that, but it would be good to see the damage, if for no other reason than to know for sure.

"Okay," Don breathed. "Please turn down my morphine drip a little. Can't focus very well."

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Leonardo warned.

"It's fine. I'll be fine. You can turn it back up when we're done."

It took a couple of hours of Leo and Don working together to get the scanner up and running. By then, Don was shaking again. Leo maxed out the drip once more, and let Don sleep off the worst of the pain before conducting the exam.

Don was poker-faced as he talked Leo through running the tests that confirmed all of his fears. Other than offering instructions and occasionally grunting in pain. He was quiet. Leo looked to Don when he turned off the machine. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Don asked.

"What do you think? How bad is the damage and how do we fix it?" Leonardo pressed.

Don hesitated. He didn't want to say the words, not right now. He wasn't used to feeling that anything was beyond hope. He was hurting, tired, not thinking clearly. "I need to do some research." That wasn't a lie. Not at all. It just wasn't the whole truth.

Don would've rolled over if he wasn't strapped down. "I'm tired, Leo. My knee hurts a lot. Can we talk in the morning?"

* * *

Don convalesced in his bedroom, remaining hooked up to a catheter and lashed to the bed for the better part of a week. His family never left his side. Occasionally, he would ask for his laptop so that he could do some research or at least go through the motions. Other than that, he just lied there. The painkillers made him sleepy.

And, those painkillers were about to become a problem.

"We're running low on morphine, Don," Leo announced gently one morning. "We can try to get more, but, I don't want you to grow dependent on the stuff. Do you have any thoughts about a long-term solution?"

"We can start weaning me off the morphine," Don considered. "I don't like how it affects me anyway. Let's cut the dosage in half, then keep reducing it by 50% each day."

"Okay. Then what do we do?" Leonardo asked.

"Nothing," Don replied. "I'll just take over the counter anti-inflammatory painkillers."

"Aren't you going to want something stronger, at least during your rehabilitation?" Leonardo fretted. He hadn't wanted to press Don, but he just assumed that there was something that they could be doing. Something that Don was still working on, and hadn't told them about yet.

Don winced. "There isn't any rehabilitation to be done. I just need to keep my knee immobilized."

"So, do you need me to rent the scanner again? See how your knee is healing up?" Leonardo inquired.

"You don't need to do that, Leo." Don sighed. "Could you get the guys? It's high time that I spoke to you all."

Leonardo didn't like the sound of that. He paused for a moment before getting up. "Sure thing, Don." He clasped Don's shoulder before fetching the rest of the family. Everyone filed in and sat around Don's bed.

"So, listen," Donatello started, looking bitterly unhappy. "My knee injury," he stopped for a long breath. "What you see is what you get. This is it for me."

"What do you mean?" Michelangelo asked, completely perplexed.

Raphael didn't need Don to elaborate. He'd suspected all along that there wouldn't be any coming back for Don.

"I can't." Don paused to consider his wording. "I'm not ever going to regain function in my leg."

"Do you mean full function?" Leonardo asked.

"I mean _any_ function," Don clarified. "The damage is too severe. It can't be healed. My ninja days are over, guys. I'm sorry."

"But Don," Mikey pled. "You can fix anything. There's got to be something you can do!"

Donatello looked even sadder. "No. Without getting into the sordid biological details too much, my knee is completely destroyed. Several of the ligaments and tendons suffered nearly complete tears. The cartilage is severely torn as well, even the muscles. Stuff like that can't heal on its own. My knee won't work. It never will again."

"Could a doctor fix this?" Leonardo asked tentatively.

Don shrugged. "It'd probably be tricky. I'd need a total knee replacement, as well as some other supportive surgeries. It might be too far gone even for that. But, what's the point of daydreaming about doctors anyway? That's not the world that we live in."

"Maybe so," Mikey considered. "But even if you can't fix it, you can work around it, right? You could build a mech suit or some sort of bionic brace?"

"I doubt it," Don mourned. "I mean, I haven't been out of bed for a week, and even so, I'm still barely functional. Something like that would hurt like shell. I think that you guys just need to start considering yourselves a team of three. This is one thing I just can't fix. I'm sorry guys."

Raphael finally spoke. "Don, we can't go on as a team without you."

Don reached out for his hand. "Yes, you can. You don't need me."

"Yes, we do!" Leonardo insisted. "You're our tech guru, our long-range weapons expert, my chief strategist."

Don smiled sadly. "I can still build your vehicles and tech. Granted, it'll be a much slower process than it was before. I can make you guys body-cams so that I can see what you see on missions. I can still offer advice, be that voice in your ear when you need it. I just can't be beside you."

Don looked at his brothers' crestfallen faces. "I'm sorry. Believe me, I wish that it didn't have to be this way. I really do."

"We ought to be the ones comforting you," Raph remarked.

Don smiled a little, feeling close to tears. "I wouldn't say no to a gentle hug."

He got four of them.

* * *

It took a few more weeks for Don to convince the guys to make that first three-turtle patrol. Splinter didn't know what to expect when his healthy sons left. They had hardly wandered from Donatello's side, and he thought perhaps his genius son might need some time alone to process what had happened to him.

Nevertheless, Splinter was pleased to hear the sound of crutches approaching. Splinter helped Donatello settle down in the middle of the sofa, and cradled his leg on a pillow that had been set out on the coffee table. Splinter set Donatello's crutches nearby, while Donatello closed his eyes and breathed through the pain that came with every movement. Splinter was loathe to sit back down, for fear of jostling his son. Sensing this, Donatello pet the cushion beside him.

Splinter sat, and Don nestled a little closer, laying his head on his father's shoulder. "So, what do we do now?" Donatello asked quietly.

"We wait," Splinter answered, putting his arm around his son's shoulders. "And, hope for the best."

"I've always wondered how you did it," Donatello quietly confessed. "Sat down here and kept yourself from worrying."

"Usually I meditate or enjoy the peace of solitude," Splinter admitted.

Donatello made a humming noise. "I suppose you haven't had much of that lately, thanks to me."

"I welcome your company, Donatello. "Besides, I believe that, of all my sons, you have the most peaceful soul."

"Perhaps," Donatello considered. "I'm glad that if this had to happen to anyone, it was me. At least I still have my inventing, my research and projects. Imagine Leo without ninjitsu, or Raph not being able to play the part of family protector. Imagine Mikey cooped up down here with a physical handicap for the rest of his life."

"I hate to imagine that," Splinter agreed. "But I also hate to imagine you hampered by this for the rest of your life."

"True, but you've got to admit that I'm better equipped to handle this than the others," Don pressed.

"If you say so, Donatello."

"Mikey would have driven us bonkers by now." Don did his best Mikey impression. "_My knee hurts. My knee hurts. My knee hurts_. I'd rather deal with chronic pain then listen to that for the rest of my life."

When Splinter offered no reply, Donatello sighed and said in his own voice. "My knee hurts."

"I know, my son."

"It really stinks, you know? I try to tell myself how much worse it could have been. At least it was me, not one of them. At least I'm alive. At least I wasn't paralyzed. I didn't suffer brain damage. I didn't lose a limb." Don paused. "But, if I had just leaped away instead of spinning..."

"I know my son. But, you did what your instincts told you to do. You can't beat yourself up over this," Splinter preached.

"I know. I just didn't expect this," Don mused. "I mean, I always knew the risks that we were taking when we walked out the door. I always knew that I could die or be maimed. I always knew that my body would give out at some point in time. It's just that… I felt like I was in my prime, like there was so much left to do."

"But you have already done so much, Donatello," Splinter praised. "If you hadn't been able to contain those stone giants, they could have killed countless innocent people."

"My knee is a small price to pay when you think of it that way," Donatello conceded.

"Yes, and that was only one incident. Think of all the other adventures you have had, all the people that you helped."

"Think of all the others that I might have still helped. I wasn't ready to retire, Dad." Don realized what he had said. "Is it okay if I just call you Dad? Sensei is difficult for me right now. Reminds me too much of what I've lost."

"You may call me whatever you like, my son. But I think that you will find, in time, that you aren't quite as retired as you think you are. There may come a time that your brothers will need you. Then, I'm sure you would not hesitate to jump in and rescue them."

"Of course I would do that. It's just that… everyone always expects miracles from me, you know? Mikey was fully convinced that I would just build a bionic leg and go right back to being my old self. Leo just assumed that I'd find some magic cure. Sometimes, there's no miracle to be had. They've got to know that, right?" Donatello frowned miserably. "I'll always find a way to be there in an emergency, but at the moment, Mr. Fix It is out of ideas."

"That's okay, Donatello," Splinter soothed. "You can't solve every problem. Perhaps it is good that you are taking this time to rest and regroup."

"It's not like I have much choice. At the moment, the pain is still pretty debilitating. I'm hoping that my body will eventually adjust, but for now, it's all I can do just to keep it at bay. I sneezed the other day and almost passed out. It hurts when I laugh." Don let out a sharp breath before continuing. "Do you know what a kick in the teeth that is? Not much makes me laugh these days, but on the rare occasions that something actually does, I'm instantly reminded - brought back to earth. Why are you laughing when you're supposed to be suffering?"

Splinter held his son a little tighter. "My Donatello. I wish that I could take this pain from you. Both the mental and the physical."

Donatello smiled, despite the sadness in his eyes. "You do. You know, I won't deny that this past month has been… just terrible, but there have been some bright spots too. Having you guys around for me all the time, seeing how much you care, even when I can't offer anything in return, that's been nice."

Splinter considered his son. Out of all the turtles, Donatello had always been the quiet one, the gentle one. He wasn't obsessed with proving that he was the best, the strongest, the most fun. He was the most willing to beg for mercy to be granted to the enemy, even to show weakness himself. As a child, he had been more than willing to climb onto his father's lap for comfort, even if the others found it babyish and teased him for it. In his prime, he was so busy all the time. His work was lonely by its nature, but he made it a point to build his labs with open walls, to work on his projects in the living room while his brothers watched TV, at the kitchen table while they ate.

For the weeks that he was lashed to the bed, Donatello had never turned his family away. He never asked for privacy so that he could cry with no one seeing. He was never afraid to reach for someone's hand when the pain was at its worst. Donatello had clearly never intended to sequester himself away, but somehow it had happened anyway.

"For these past few years, I've been pulled in so many directions at once. One minute, I'm an elite ninja, the next, I'm an engineer, a mechanic, a scientist. There were times that it was hard to not lose myself in all of that - whatever I am at my core when you strip all of that other stuff away. So, as hard as this injury has been on me, I've got to admit that it feels sort of good to be just Donnie for a change."

Splinter was overcome with love for his child. "Donatello. What you are at your core has always been more than enough. The gifts you have given us, running water, heat, electricity, the vehicles, the gadgetry - everything; they have been wonderful. But, they pale in comparison to the gift of your mere presence."

"Speaking of my presence, I've always worried about you being all alone down here when we're gone," Don confessed. "At least I can keep a closer eye on you now. Maybe that's another bright spot."

Splinter's lips rose a little. "And yet, if I asked you to get me a glass of water?"

Don snickered, grabbing his knee as he did so. "I'd invite you to get it yourself. It's rather difficult to carry a glass of water while on crutches."

"We should start using bottled water," Splinter wisely assessed. "And perhaps obtain a service dog."

Don's eyes widened. "I'm not drinking from a water bottle that some dog has slobbered on. Besides, where would it do its business? What we need is a trained monkey."

Splinter leg out a hearty laugh. "Donatello, don't tell your brothers that I said this, but you always were the smart one."

* * *

There were a lot of things that Leo had begun to resent, and it grew worse and worse with each passing week. He couldn't stand the sight of Don's bulky knee immobilizer. He had assumed that it would be downgraded to a brace at some point, but apparently, Don intended to wear it forever. He hated that there were pillow-covered stools set up at all of Don's usually hangouts - under his computer table, in front of the chair that had been placed in the garage, next to the desk in his bedroom. He hated that Don sometimes moaned in his sleep, particularly on cold nights, or when the weather was changing. He hated hearing Don's voice in his earpiece when he'd much rather have his brother beside him. He resented the robot that Don was building to replace him on missions.

Leo particularly resented the damn hospital. It was right there, a few blocks away, taking in patients far less deserving than Donatello. Gang members sporting bullet wounds, burnouts who had overdosed for the third time that year, spoiled rich kids injured while partaking in over the top hobbies, drunk drivers who had crashed their cars - they all marched through the doors like it was nothing. But Donatello, who had only ever wanted to help people, whose only crime was spinning when he should have leaped, who lived with an incredible amount of pain that he hardly ever spoke of, who was apparently crippled for life- he could never go there. Leonardo hated it.

But, Leo could never hate or resent Donatello himself. His injury had slowed him down, but it hadn't broken him. He was still doing his best for his family. He was staying in shape as much as he could, pumping iron, exercising his good leg. He was still inventing, the new robot (or Don-bot, as they had taken to calling it) being his latest project. He had even obtained a work-from-home job, that provided them with ample pizza money.

Every night, after patrol, Leo would sit in Don's room and chat over a cup of herbal tea. Don had cut out coffee. He had enough trouble sleeping as it was. That was another thing that Leo resented - that Don had been denied even that simple pleasure. Leo liked to think that the nightly chats kept Don feeling like part of the team. He usually ended them by massaging Don's shoulders. That's where Don carried his stress, and being confined to the sewers, dealing with chronic pain, and pent up energy, and hobbling around on crutches all day was very stressful on the once-vigorous turtle. Leo wanted to do all that he could for his fallen brother.

And, to that end, the turtles began hanging around the hospital during patrols. Leo hoped that maybe they might save a doctor or a nurse, even a benefactor or member of the board. Maybe, they might feel obliged to then do the turtles a favor. Leo knew that it would take a lot more than luck and the generosity of strangers to fix Don, but he had to start somewhere.

And, muggings, assaults, and thefts did happen. When they did, Leo and the guys acted a little differently than normal. They came out of the shadows a little more. They wanted their faces to be known. In a few months' time, they'd become urban legends in that particular neighborhood.

After a slow night, the guys came home early. They found Don in the lab, working on his robot and listening to music. He had his leg propped up, as always, but tonight he was wearing a strange bundle of wires and electrodes around his arms and shoulders. Don turned with a wince and then smiled brightly. "Hey, guys! Watch this!"

Donatello waved, and the robot, which at this point was only a torso, perfectly mimicked the motion. It was amazing, the things that Don could do.

"Wow. How did you pull that off?" Michelangelo asked, impressed with how fluid the motion had been.

"It helps that I'm making enough money to order the parts that I need online, rather than scrounging through junkyards for whatever I can find," Donatello explained. "Hey Raph, try for a high three."

Raphael marched over, feeling like an idiot. He held up his hand, and the partially-built Don-bot slapped it. "Pretty impressive," Raph praised.

"And watch this," Don urged. He made a fist and swung. The robot's move was lightning fast and as powerful as Donatello's.

Leonardo whistled.

"So, what do you think?" Don asked. He gave a hopeful thumbs-up, and the robot did too.

"I think that you mastered the arms," Leo answered. "Do you have any plans for the rest of it?"

"I've been debating. There'll be a camera on the head that I'll be able to watch, and I'll remotely control the arms from here using the sensor-net. Obviously, I can only move one leg, so I'll have to do something different for the lower half. It could either roll on a ball, which I could shift using my torso, or I could attempt some sort of AI."

"AI, as in artificial intelligence?" Leonardo asked.

"Sure," Don replied. "But a very, very basic one. Something that could predict where I might want the robot to go, that could be easily overridden if it guessed wrong."

"I didn't know that you could do that," Leo mused.

"I can't," Don said. "Yet."

Later that week, as Leo was massaging Don's shoulders, Donatello stopped him by placing his hand over one of Leo's. "Hey," Don began. "Why have you been hanging around the hospital so much lately?"

"It's in a dangerous part of the City," Leonardo replied. "I'd rather protect the medical staff and recovering patients than get involved in random street fights and pointless gang wars."

"But why are you taking so many risks when you're there? From what I've seen on the body-cams, it's almost like you want to be noticed."

Leo clasped Donnie's shoulder a little tighter. "I don't like seeing you like this, Don."

"I'm _fine_," Don promised. "You shouldn't be taking risks on my account."

"You're not fine, Donnie," Leonardo countered. "You don't deserve to live like this."

"I can live with a bum knee. I can't live without the three of you. What if you get caught?"

"We won't," Leonardo insisted. "We're careful."

"What's your plan, anyway? What are you even aiming to do?" Don wondered.

"I don't know, exactly," Leo answered. "I just figure that it can't hurt to make a few well-placed friends."

"Leo, please just stop taking so many risks, especially if you don't have a plan. I doubt that any human doctor could fix me anyway. But, even if they could… the pain that I suffer is mine alone. I don't want you to bring any of it down upon yourselves, and potentially revealing our existence to the public could do just that."

Leonardo said something that he rarely ever did. "_You're wrong, Donatello_. Your suffering is not yours to bear alone, and it never has been. We all feel it every day. Patrols and training feel all wrong without you there. And the vehicles that you built seem so empty without you in them. When we're in the middle of one of those messes that we get ourselves into, I look to you for advice, only to find that you're not with us. Your voice in an earpiece just isn't the same. Raphael is so used to watching your back that even now, I still catch him frantically searching for you in the heat of battle. And Mikey… haven't you noticed how much he's toned it down around here? He told me that he knows it hurts you to laugh, so he tries not to make you do it."

Donatello let the sadness show in his brown eyes. "I didn't realize that you guys felt that way. I figured that you would have adjusted by now. I'm sorry."

Leonardo took his brother in his arms. "Don't be sorry. Just let us fight for you. Let us fight for you as hard as you've always fought for us."

Don nodded and hugged Leo back. "Okay, but just, don't do anything that might put your own lives at risk." He broke the hug and leaned back to look Leo in the eyes. "I mean it. Right now, I don't have a functional knee, but without you guys, I don't have a life. At least not one worth living."

* * *

Watching the hospital could be sad at times. Not all patients that went in came back out. Sometimes they left missing arms or legs. That certainly hit close to home for Leo. It was watching one of these patients that Leo suddenly had an idea. When he did, he wondered why he didn't think of it sooner.

"Hey, Don," Leo greeted as he handed his brother a cup of tea. "Did you ever think of the possible medical uses for the Don-bot technology?"

"Do you mean like using it as a prosthetic? Yes, I have. But, I haven't figured out a way to make an accurate neural interface." Don looked down at his cup. "As you know, I'm hardly a doctor."

"Perhaps not, but your robotics are so smooth. The way they perfectly mimic natural motion, control pressure, and speed, I don't think that any human technology even comes close to that," Leo praised.

"It's a robot. Not a prosthetic. Believe me, I'd love to use the technology to help people, but it's just not there yet." Don shrugged. "Maybe someday."

"Someday could come sooner than you think. Maybe we could provide this to a medical expert and see if they could develop the missing pieces," Leonardo suggested.

"Thank you. I am proud of the technology. But-" Don stopped talking when he realized what Leo was getting at. "You don't mean?"

"There's someone at the hospital who might find it interesting. A highly-placed someone, who might be willing to pay with an off-the-books surgery."

Don didn't want to allow himself to get too hopeful too fast. "Why would they do that, and agree to keep our secret?"

"Because there's profit to be had. They could make millions off of your designs. The person I have in mind may have some personal reasons as well," Leonardo answered. "I could give them a little demo, only hand it over after the surgery is complete."

Donatello thought about it. "Maybe I ought to put a couple more fingers on this thing."

It was Michelangelo who actually brokered the deal, being the friendliest turtle in the group. Don stayed home, trying not to be nervous. He didn't even watch on the body-cam feed. Michelangelo waited for the target, then began to move. Leo and Raph were flanking him on either side.

"Dr. Modha?" Mikey said tentatively, stepping out of a dark corner within the parking garage.

The woman was startled but didn't scream or run. She knew better, after her first encounter. "You again," she said. "I guess that I never got the chance to properly thank you for stopping that mugger."

"No problem. It's kind of our thing. Name's Michelangelo. That's Leonardo to the left, and Raphael to the right." Mikey stuck out his hand.

The woman shook it, not appearing repulsed at all. "Uh, hello Michelangelo. Apparently, you already know my name. Am I in some sort of trouble?"

"No. We have a proposal for you, but we'll make it quick. As you know, we like to keep a low profile," Leo spoke up.

"I do. My colleagues all said that I was crazy until they began catching glimpses of you as well."

"Well, we have something even more impressive to show you," Michelangelo said.

Raphael handed Mikey the arm, which Don had mounted to a piece of particleboard. Leo was wearing the electrodes that controlled the arm. Don's tech had come a long way. Just like Don had done that first time, Leo waved. He hoped that Dr. Modha would be as impressed as he was.

The doctor tilted her head. "Where did you get this?"

"My brother Donatello built it," Michelangelo explained. "He's kind of a whiz with stuff like this."

"Ask it to do something," Leo requested.

"Snap its fingers," Dr. Modha instructed.

Leo did just that. Of course, the hand made no noise. Nevertheless, the doctor seemed impressed. She stepped closer to the arm. "Mimic me," she said. Leo attempted to do just that. For a few minutes, the two rolled their wrists and elbows, opened and closed their hands, and wriggled specific fingers. The last part was a little hard for Leo since he had 3 and the bot had 5, but that's where Don's AI came in. It did a pretty good job of predicting what moves to make.

"Fascinating," Dr. Modha said, finally stepping away. "You said that your brother built this?"

"Yes. Donatello," Mikey confirmed.

"And why are you showing it to me?" the doctor asked.

"We thought maybe it could help people. We're kind of into that sort of thing," Michelangelo answered. "Don thought it could be useful as a prosthetic, but he can't build the neural interface on his own."

Dr. Modha looked at him. "And you think that I can?"

"We hope so," Michelangelo replied.

"This technology could make you rich, you know. Why would you just hand it over?" she asked.

"We're not, to be clear," Michelangelo said, trying to sound gentle. "We'd be asking you to do us a favor before we hand it over."

"And, what favor might that be?"

"Our brother, Donatello, the one who built this, he was gravely injured in battle," Mikey said slowly. "We can't fix him without outside help."

"Was it his arm?" Dr. Modha inquired, assuming that was why he had built the prosthetic.

"No," Michelangelo answered. "It was his knee. We took a scan when he was first injured. The video is saved on this flash drive. We'd like you to watch it, and see if you can think of some way to fix it. If you can, we'll pay you back by giving you all the designs for the arm, as well as the demonstration model."

Dr. Modha took the flash drive. "I'll watch it," she said. "How do I get back in touch with you?"

"Donatello's e-mail address is on there too," Michelangelo said. On his cue, the turtles disappeared back into the shadows. "You can take your time making your decision. We aren't going anywhere," his voice echoed through the deserted garage.

It took a few weeks for Donatello to receive an email. He gulped before he read it, deciding to do so on his own before speaking to his family.

"Dr. Modha wants me to come into the hospital for further testing," Donatello explained over dinner that night.

"But, she already has the scans," Michelangelo pointed out. "What other tests could she need?"

"Those scans are almost six months old," Don replied. "And, they were made with a low-resolution machine. She wants an up-to-date MRI. She also wants to run one on my other knee, so that she can see what a healthy mutant turtle leg looks like."

"So, what do you want to do?" Leo asked. Don hadn't left the Lair since he'd gotten hurt. At this point, he was essentially a shut-in.

"I'm scared, Leo," Don admitted. "What if this is some sort of trap?"

"She's not that type," Leo soothed. "She's got a personal stake in this too, Don."

"What's personal about money?" Donatello somewhat grumpily replied.

"There's a reason that we chose her," Raphael answered. "Her son is missing an arm."

Don looked back and forth between his brothers. "We've seen him visiting her," Michelangelo elaborated. "And, we found a news article about how she adopted him from an Indian orphanage. Apparently, he lost it to some sort of infection back when he was a toddler. She's a good person, Don. She only wants to help people."

"A lot like you," Leo added.

Don managed a reluctant shrug. "Well, if you trust her, I guess that I can too. She suggested that we set up a time to meet her at the hospital. It would have to be sometime in the middle of the night when it's less crowded. It'll be easier for her to sneak us in and out of the MRI machine that way."

The turtles made plans to do just that, a week later. It was strange for Don to be back on the surface. His brothers had tried to encourage him to come out these past long months. But, it hurt him too much to move for long distances, and he also feared not being able to run away if something went wrong.

This made it even more unsettling to approach the MRI machine. Don was trembling, and his brothers weren't sure if it was his pain flaring up from the van ride and the walk through the hospital hallways, or if he was simply feeling frightened and helpless.

It was a good thing that Dr. Modha had a well-honed bedside manner. She leaned over where he was lying in front of the machine. "Donatello, the scans won't be accurate if you're shaking. Do you need something for the pain, or to calm you down?"

Even Don wasn't sure what his issue was. He'd read that many people panicked during MRI testing, but Don held no fear of machines. He reasoned that he was afraid of being trapped in there if someone were to walk into the room. How could he defend himself, being disabled and stuck inside a machine?

"Your brothers will be right outside. They can even talk to you if you want," the doctor comforted.

"Tell me about your son," Don requested, hoping that a distraction would help him to feel better.

Dr. Modha was a bit taken aback, but she began speaking anyway. "Well, his name is Ravi. He's a remarkable child. Very spirited. I have a busy schedule and never saw myself adopting. But, I had volunteered to do some charity work at an orphanage overseas, and he just stood out to me. I knew right away that he was meant to be my son. He had lived in that orphanage since he was a toddler. He was four when I met him, about two and a half years ago. I was so inspired by his positive, loving attitude, despite his desperate circumstances. I just knew that I needed him in my life. So, I became a mom on the spot. I haven't looked back. Since I brought him home, he's really blossomed. He's friendly and brave, and intensely curious about the world."

"My brothers tell me that he lost an arm," Don said hesitantly.

"True, but it doesn't define him. People stare, but rather than be offended, he treats them as new friends."

Don had stopped shaking by now. "Listen… I want you to have my prototype. Even if you can't help me, I want you to have it."

Dr. Modha nodded. "Okay. But, I'll help you regardless. We're partners now."

Don smiled at that and realized that he was ready to submit to the tests. He relaxed his body, and into the tube, he went.

It was good practice for all that was to come in the next month. Dr. Modha couldn't do the surgery herself. She needed to consult with specialists, and bring in a surgical nurse and an anesthesiologist. People needed to cover the paperwork trail and ensure that there would be no record of the surgery, or any unwanted visitors while Don was in the hospital. The turtles approved each decision and thoroughly checked out each new person before agreeing to add them to the team. Fortunately, a lot of people owed them favors.

When the day of Don's surgery finally arrived, he had to say goodbye to his father and brothers prior to being wheeled into the operating room. It was scary for all of them, knowing that Don would be unconscious and extremely vulnerable, in an area where they wouldn't be able to protect him. Surgery is scary for anyone, but Don was a unique case. He didn't know how the drugs would affect him. He was afraid that he may not wake up. He was also afraid that he couldn't trust all these new strangers.

An orderly arrived to take Don away, and he found this new person's presence unsettling. "I… I'm not sure that I should go through with this after all," Don said in fear. "What if… what if this is some sort of trap?"

"It's not a trap, Don," Leo warmly replied. "You know how careful we've been. This is just last-minute jitters."

"Okay, but what if something goes wrong?" Don continued to fuss.

"It will be okay," Splinter comforted. "It will. You will wake up at home, in your own bed." That was the plan they had made, as convalescing in the hospital would drastically increase the odds of the turtles being discovered by someone outside the little team that they had built.

Feeling like an intruder, the orderly stepped forward. "Dr. Modha is the best. The whole team worked really hard on this plan. And, on a personal note, everyone involved owes your family a huge debt of gratitude. We're not about to betray you."

Don pulled himself together, partially due to a fear of appearing weak in front of this stranger. "What did my brothers do for you?" he asked shakily.

The security guard smiled. "Ah, the red one-"

"Raphael," Raph grunted.

"Raphael. He was persistent. Showed up here all the time. It was kind of unsettling if I'm being honest."

"Hey!" Raphael snapped.

The orderly laughed. "Well, it was! I've been dating a Paramedic, and sometimes we'd go out to the ambulance bay for a bit of privacy, and we'd catch a glimpse of him from a nearby roof, watching over everyone. It did put a damper on things."

"I never watched anything that should have been private!" an offended Raphael pouted.

The orderly didn't directly reply. "Well, I found it unsettling, until my girlfriend pulled up with some gangbanger under her care, and as soon as the ambulance doors opened, someone opened fire from the street."

Donatello gasped.

"She would've been caught in the crossfire, if not for your brother. The gunfire was coming from a car, and Raphael jumped down from a roof and landed right on top of it! He reached inside and grabbed the driver. The car went out of control and crashed into a light post. I've never seen anyone do anything so selfless."

"Pretty good, Raph," Don praised.

"Aw, it was nothing," Raphael dismissed.

"We all have stories like that. Until today, I never had a chance to thank Raphael," the orderly continued. "From the sounds of things, a lot of us New Yorkers owe us your thanks but have never had a chance to give it to you. So, if this is our chance to pay you back, then we're all going to make darn sure not to mess it up."

"See that you don't," Raphael half-threatened. The atmosphere had gotten too sappy for his liking.

"Okay," Don said thickly. "Okay. I'm ready now." He smiled at his family. "Bye Dad... guys."

They all took the chance to give Don a final hug. "We will see you before you know it," Splinter promised.

* * *

When Donatello regained consciousness, he was, indeed, warm in his own bed and surrounded by family.

Leonardo was the first to notice that his brother was awake. "Hi, Donnie. How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine," Don answered groggily. "How did everything go?"

"Very well, my son," Splinter replied. "The doctor said that you will be up and walking around in no time."

"Really?" Don questioned.

"Really," Leonardo affirmed. "Everything went perfectly. You may never get back to 100%, but you'll be head and shoulders better than you were before."

"You need to rest tonight, but we can try to get you up and about tomorrow," Raphael added. "She said that you should try taking a few steps with a walker."

"Really?" Don said again.

Michelangelo chuckled. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I guess that I was scared to let myself believe that it would really work," Donatello admitted. "It just seemed too good to be true, and there was so much that could have gone wrong."

"Well everything is just fine," Leonardo replied. "So you can rest easy tonight, knowing that you're finally on the mend."

"I suppose that you guys can finally rest easy too," Don said softly. "You sacrificed a lot of nights to pull this off for me."

"We did it for ourselves too," Raphael answered, his voice choked with a sentiment that ran deep within him, but that he rarely voiced. "We need you by our sides again. Like _really_ by our sides. Not just because of all the things you do for us, but also because…. We just love you, Donnie. And loving someone means coming through for them when they need you most."

"Doing whatever it takes for them," Michelangelo added.

"I think you proved what you were willing to do for us, time and time again," Leo finished for all of them. "We were just returning the favor."

"Thanks," Don replied. He leaned forward in the bed and opened his arms wide. His father and three brothers gave him a firm but careful hug.

Michelangelo noticed that Donatello hadn't winced at all when he moved, and he couldn't resist the urge to try something out. "Hey Donnie," Mikey whispered.

"What?"

"What do you call a dog with no legs?"

"Huh?" Donatello grunted.

"What do you call a dog with no legs?" Michelangelo repeated.

"Mikey," Raphael muttered in warning.

"It doesn't matter what you call him. He's not going to come anyway," Michelangelo finished.

Donatello was confused for a moment, then couldn't help but let out a belly laugh. "What the heck, Mikey? That was terrible."

"But you laughed," Michelangelo replied.

"Only out of pity," Don quipped.

"Still, you laughed, and it didn't seem to hurt you," a self-satisfied Michelangelo observed. "You didn't even reach for your knee."

"I guess it didn't hurt," Donatello realized. "Awww. You guys fixed me." He opened his arms for another hug. Even if he never did make it back to 100%, he knew that he'd never lost those things that mattered most.

* * *

**Funny story. I totally forgot about Don's knee injury in _Homecoming_. Apparently, I'm a repetitive author. I was going to rewrite this chapter, but I figured 'why bother.' At least you know what to expect from me! Anyway, thanks for reading!**


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